Magical
pirouettes
and lifts
and leaps
in wordless bliss
a pas de deux
on a shady carpet
soft with dew
and the only audience
protective trees
and silent forest creatures
who are our soundless music
for they feel and feed our souls,
waft down the year
to me in reverence,
and my quiet smile
seeps softly
to the marrow
of my bones
in memory
of what
is not.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem